


The Trouble with Pens

by MetasActReon



Series: Autistic Carlos is Beautiful [6]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Care fic, I think?, M/M, WOO, drug overdose like thing, illegal writing utensils
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetasActReon/pseuds/MetasActReon
Summary: Cecil pops into the lab to fetch his beloved boyfriend for their date (because grabbing him straight from the lab is the best way to keep him from missing a date,) but finds that there is a serious emergency that needs to be taken care of instead.ORWhy are writing utensils illegal? Read and find out!





	The Trouble with Pens

**Author's Note:**

> This has been getting worked on for a while. Just, life and other fandoms have gotten in my way. So, here's a fun little one shot, featuring my headcanon with writing utensils!

   Cecil glanced around. Carlos was writing away, papers ripped up, wrinkled and thrown around, ink covering every inch. Cecil drew in a sharp breath. “I'm in love with a criminal.” Oh, sure he had seen Carlos write with pens, pencils and magic markers, and really everyone secretly broke those laws with only one person being exempt from them. Cecil had also seen Carlos be quite daring where he whipped out said tools, but this amount of evidence spread out all over his personal lab... He was just begging for reeducation. Cecil began collecting the papers, tentacles unraveling from his body to help. This much evidence needed to be destroyed.

   Another paper landed next to his foot. He glanced at Carlos who was still steadily writing away, not a care in the word. Cecil set the collected papers in a pile. He had to stop this before the SSP decided this was too much to put up with.

   “Carlos,” Cecil whispered harshly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Carlos barely hesitated. A tentacle slithered over and tapped Carlos's hand. He yanked away and continued writing, now a few lines below where the interruption had happened. Cecil frowned, noticing how the scratches weren’t in any language he knew, and he knew quite a bit. The tentacle wrapped firmly around Carlos's hand, forcing him to stop.

   Carlos’s spun his head to face Cecil's, revealing starry eyes that contained nebulas and even some quasars. Cecil's own eyes widened as he stepped back. Carlos yanked his hand back to himself.  _ Why  _ hadn't _ the SSP stopped this?! _

   Cecil dashed out of the lab as Carlos continued scribbling away. The scientist quietly muttered to himself. He could see galaxies, history, the future. He could see the atoms that made up everything. He could see  _ everything.  _ The movement of energy, the movement of every planet in existence, all the possibilities of the web that makes up reality, everything whizzed around in his mind and in between his eyes and what they could see and he needed to get it all out, make the intangible tangible to those around him.

   He continued writing, ripping off the last paper he had filled.

   A shock of cold washed over Carlos, water splashing down and drenching his desk, and his precious written knowledge! He spun around, sputtering, wide eyed. “¡̫¿̱͖͔̹͔̦Q̟̫̪͚̣u͔͉̰͝é̪̩͍͈̬̭ ̶̯̯̗̹ḥ̺̠͚̲̩i̢̲ç͉̩͈͓̪̱i̧͙ṣ̩̳͕̕-̰̲” he was suddenly wrapped in arms and tentacles.

   “Carlos, it's ok. It's ok. Shhh, Carlos, it's ok.”

   “Y͠ou ̧r͢u͠ined͜ ̧my no͟t̶es!”

   Cecil pulled back, worrying his lower lip between sharp teeth. “You... Carlos, you were... You need to give up writing utensils for a while...”

   Carlos shook his head, the whites of his eyes starting to return just slightly. He rubbed his head, which was beginning to throb. “Wh̨̡at the h҉͞e̡l̴̴l̨̛, Ceci̴̧͞l̵͞?͡”

   “You're high on the unknowable.”

   Carlos took a deep breath, trying not to just yell at Cecil to get out. “An̨d what do҉͞e͏̨s̷ that even m͟e͞an?”

   “You've been using writing utensils too much,” Cecil tsked. “I can't believe the Sheriff's Secret Police haven't come in and hauled you away. This is exactly why we have laws in place, Carlos.”

   “C̢͜e̢͡c͡il, you aren̴̕'̶͘͠t̵̶̢͘ making a l҉ick of sen̢͢se.”

   Cecil fixed Carlos with a cold hard glare. “If I didn't stop you you would have been completely lost within another minute.”

   “... Huh?̷̡”

   “Pens, pencils and most markers when used too much open up the mind too far. It's like a drug but an overdose leads to some unknown existential change. Whether it's death, bodiless insanity, or whatever, you'd be gone from here. Ugh, you're already having a really bad trip with your voice like that. We need to burn all of this.”

   Carlos jumped up, pointing at Cecil threateninghly, “Y̡oư'l͡l͡ ̧do͏ no s̢uch ͝thįn̕g͝!”

   “Carlos, we need to. Your writings are too dangerous.” Cecil stared at Carlos's eyes. The eye contact became too much and Carlos looked elsewhere. “Your whites are still clouded and starry... You... Carlos, are those all of your pens?”

   “Yeah, why?”

   A tentacle smacked down on the pile, denting the table and shattering the illegal tools.

   Carlos looked at Cecil in shock as said tentacle wrapped around the pile and wiped it into a waste basket another tentacle had located.

   “W͡h͢a͡t͜ ̨are y̸o͘u  _ d̵͝oiņ̵g͠!?  _ Cec̸͡i̛͠l!”

   “It's for your own good.”

   Carlos groaned before angrily going to his computer. He opened up a word document and went to type, but his fingers froze, hovering over the keyboard. With a cry of frustration he backhanded the keyboard of his desk. “N͋oͪ̂̑t̓ ̎ͫs͐u҉f͐̏̓fīĉỉͫ̀ẻ̈́̓nͥt̽̐!̐̋ Gi̸͠v͘҉e̶͞ me those p͝en҉s͠!”

   “No, Carlos. You've had too much.”

   Carlos lunged towards Cecil, just to find himself wrapped and held in the air by tendrils. Cecil looked at Carlos, looking as if he were in actual physical pain. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick of gum, carefully bringing Carlos closer. “Chew on this. I'll take care of everything.” Cecil slipped the gun into Carlos's mouth, ignoring those eyes.

   He carefully released Carlos as the agitated man began chewing away. Cecil returned to collecting papers and finding empty pens that seemed to have been tossed even more carelessly than the papers..

   “At lea͢s͘t leave some for p̴̛e̵͟͡op҉le to stu̸d͝y, Cecil. I̞̘͡ ̜understand e͋ͣ̅ͬ͢vͩeͤͬ̒ͧr̛͆̅͛̒ͤ̓y̌ͭ͛̀͜t͊ͥ̿̍̚h̔̔̑͟ǐ̓͒̿ͧ̽n̵ͤ̓̃ͦg͂͋ͮͧ̑̈́!̵̶̢̅ͦ̎̚ ̷̛̓̄ͣ̅͞Everyone deşe͜rves to un͞d̷e҉rs͡t̴and͜ too.”

   “Carlos, can you hear yourself? You're high. These are covered in nonsense and trying to decipher them will drive people to insanity. I've seen it happen, I've reported on it.”

   Carlos shifted. A tone in Cecil's voice made it hard for him to continue trying to convince him. Carlos knew everything, but Cecil seemed to not care, not want to join him in his knowledge. If knowing everything placed a wedge between them...

   Cecil left for a bit. Carlos looked around his lab for ways to release the knowledge building up in his mind. His head was beginning to pound and he couldn't take it.

   Cecil returned with a waste bin full of ashes. “Do you have some sunglasses? If you go out like that the SSP  _ will _ arrest you. If the public realizes how far you’ve gone.” Cecil shuddered, his third eye lightly glowing as ghosts of visions flitted pass.

   Carlos rolled his eyes, muttered under his breath, and retrieved some welding goggles he kept around. In Night Vale, they were useful for more than just welding, looking at the sun, and blocking out the world when he was overwhelmed. He fitted them over his glasses before rubbing at his temples with a small whine. He reached into his lab pocket, but those pens had been used and emptied first. He lightly hit his leg in frustration. A touch on his arm made him jump.

   “It’s ok, Carlos. I have you. Come with me. I’m taking you to my place. I’ve got you.” Cecil carefully led Carlos out to the car, trying not to appear too antsy. Maybe he could save Carlos from a reeducation, but this wasn’t going to be easy.

   Once everyone was buckled up, Cecil drove as quickly as he could while not breaking any laws. Getting pulled over was the last thing he needed right now.

   Carlos’s chewing was becoming anxiety inducingly audible and he was hitting his leg every now and again. He was becoming quite glad for the goggles. The pain of his mind was really over stimulating and the galaxies were still vaguely flashing around his being, every star a possibility that was filled with even more possibilities ( _ How did Cecil not notice this? They were so clear, so brilliant! _ ,) and the knowledge still flitting around... He needed to get it out, tell the world! Everyone deserves to know this stuff, to keep it to himself was wrong and selfish! He needed to release it into the world, he needed to get back to his pens!

   “C-Ceci̷l... I-҉I think... mi̸nd...” Carlos hit his leg again. This was too much. He had to say it, he had to let Cecil know his mind felt like it was about to implode from having too much in such a small area, turn into a black hole that sucks up everything in range. But this feeling made his throat feel tight, forcing the words out made everything even worse.

   “Shh. It hurts, I know. I think I can relieve it, just, hold out until we get to the apartment.”

   Carlos became aware of the absence of the sound of the old engine running, the absence of the rattling Cecil’s car made, the presence of something smooth and soft gently pulling on his arm. Shakily, Carlos exited the car, no longer chewing his gum but grinding his teeth together so hard the jaw ached, but he couldn’t even notice that through the chaos of his mind.

   Carlos barely flinched when he stepped on the shrieking 11th stair, causing it to scream a high pitched shriek, since he was already so out of touch with the rest of his senses. Cecil practically slammed his apartment door behind them as they got into the apartment. He quickly led Carlos into his bedroom and carefully nudged a few things to make the hidden cameras have a tad bit more difficult a time with making things out. All he had to do, after all, was keep the Sheriff's Secret Police from noticing Carlos’s eyes and if some radioactive decorations fuzzed up the live feed, well, it wasn’t like they couldn’t keep tabs on the room, it just made small details difficult.

   “Ok, here’s the desk, I’ll be right back, ok? Don’t move, I have an idea.” Cecil rushed out, retracting his tentacles, and fetched an old typewriter with no paper. While being materialistic may be against the law, being a general horder wasn’t exactly wrong as long as the stuff was hidden enough...

Cecil walked into the room and froze. Carlos, no longer wearing his goggles, had located one of his really good pens that he made to fool the Sheriff's Secret Police in public, one of the ones with paper taped onto it that read “NOT-A-PEN” (He also had a few that read “I can't believe it's not-a-pen,” “Scientifically speaking, this is Not-A-Pen.” Cecil had claimed one of the collection as his own with his own phrase, “Show me a pen, this is not-a-pen!”) Scratches of ink in unknown language and images already was taking up the wall around Cecil’s desk.

   Cecil shook himself out of his shock, tossed the typewriter onto the bed, and tackled Carlos. “Give me the not-a-pen!”

_ “Nͧͮ̉҉̶̸͍̫͇̮̕o̊͑̄̏!͊͐” _ Carlos shouted, his voice already getting worse in that overpowering ethereal overlords type of way.

   Cecil pulled out all of his tentacles, wrestling with Carlos over the most definitely illegal writing utensil, but Carlos was strong for a human and either adrenalin or whatever the heck this brain overload was, seemed to only make him stronger. Cecil’s eyes watered, maybe he should have gotten the secret police involved. They might leave Carlos in a worse state, but at least that state would still be in existence, at least that state wouldn't be deteriorating out of con-

  **SNAP!**

   Cecil and Carlos stared at each other, slowly making sense of the ink that had splattered on hands, tentacles, and clothes. Cecil slowly swallowed. “Carlos, just take a deep breath. Go back to the desk.”

   With tear filled galaxy eyes he numbly nodded and did so, rubbing his hands against his lab coat. The ink was sticky feeling and needed to come off, it felt icky. Why did this have to be felt too? Why did this have to be happening?

   Cecil carefully set the typewriter in front of Carlos. “Ok, so, try to type out what you need with this, ok? Just, do anything you want. I’ll get everything taken care of, you just write.”

   Carlos blinked, focusing his eyes on the object in front of him. He placed his fingers on it and began pushing at the difficult buttons, flinching at the unfamiliar experience. “Įt... t̴h̷e̢re͘’ş n̡o͏t...” Carlos clenched his fists in frustration. How could buttons with so little variability ever describe what he needs to describe?

   “Settle, this is as much as you can work with right now, ok? Just work with it.” Cecil stared intently at Carlos, his third eye glowing lightly, sensing that he needed a heightened awareness right now, focusing on the scientist.

   Carlos slowly returned to punching the buttons, slowly picking up speed as his focus frustratedly narrowed onto the object. After a while, Cecil left to grab some strong acids to start burning the ink off of the wall (as well as the wall itself, which he’d fix later.)

   After 5 hours Carlos froze and then pulled away from the typewriter, blinking dazedly around. “Cec?”

   “I’m here,” he whispered from patching the drywall.

   “What am I doing here?”

   Cecil took a deep breath. “You lost yourself for a bit... You...” Cecil swallowed back an anxious sob. “I’m going to keep you here for a few days but the worst should be past as... As long as you don’t relapse...”

   Carlos looked down at Cecil. “... Are you OK?”

   Cecil nodded and stood up, wiping some plaster onto his already lightly ink stained sundress.

   Carlos shifted uncomfortably, sensing that Cecil wasn’t being honest. “Cecil.”

   “It’s just... I nearly lost you... again...”

   Carlos’s brow furrowed, confused as to how. “I... Um... Sorry?”

   Cecil smiled a small exhausted smile. He went to give Carlos a hug, paused, and decided that it may not be the best time after the experience Carlos had gone through. As he pulled away, though, Carlos grabbed his arm and gave him a small nod. Cecil hugged him tightly, burying his face into Carlos’s hair.

   “Please, just... be careful with your pen use,” Cecil whispered.

   “Oh, okay,” Carlos whispered back, wondering how in the world his pen use could be connected to Cecil nearly losing him.

**Author's Note:**

> Eldritch distortions brought to you by http://www.eeemo.net/ Bring a little chaos into your writing!
> 
> Want to contact me in a more private way, ask me questions about things they may not be directly connected to just one work, hear about things I'm working on, or just follow what I'm into? Follow or message me on my tumblr, https://metasactreon.tumblr.com


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